“I apologize for arriving at such an early hour, my lady,” Nolan said. His voice set off an unexpected craving inside Gabby. As much as he vexed her, Nolan also had a way of making Gabby want more of him.
“I haven’t had the pleasure,” her father said from his chair. He peered at Nolan, who had moved almost directly behind Gabby. She was disturbingly aware of him, and it brought a most unwanted flush to her cheeks.
Her mother introduced Nolan, and when she explained that he was the detective who had helped her search for Grayson, humiliation hung on her every word. Her husband had thought her a fool for making such a fuss of their son’s disappearance, and it was clear that having to thus play the fool wounded Lady Brickton’s pride to no end.
“And Lord Fairfax is well?” Nolan inquired, using Grayson’s title with astounding propriety. No doubt he wanted to roll his eyes.
“As well as he’ll ever be,” Gabby’s father answered, making little attempt to mask the disdain he felt for his own son. If he felt this way about Grayson now, Gabby didn’t want to imagine how it would be should he learn about his son’s demon half.
“I apologize if my wife had you mucking about Paris trying to find the boy.”
Her brother straightened her back and leveled her chin. It was only a matter of time before she burst. Gabby didn’t wish to be there when it happened.
“No apology is necessary. She did nothing wrong. Any decent parent would have taken the same course of action,” Nolan replied.
The room fell silent and Gabby’s jaw went slack. Even the footman in the corner of the dining room raised his eyebrows at Nolan’s cutting insult. No one spoke to her father that way. Before she knew what she was doing, Gabby shifted slightly in her seat and peered up at him in awe. He and Lord Brickton had become locked in an arctic glare.
“I wanted to deliver an invitation to you personally, rather than through a messenger,” Nolan went on, as if he’d said nothing at all. “My father and I would like to request the pleasure of your family’s company at our home, H?tel Bastian, tomorrow evening for dinner.”
Had Gabby been eating, she would have choked. Nolan must have gone utterly mad. He wanted her father at Alliance headquarters? Gabby’s mother seemed to be having the same concerns. Her lips twitched as she started, then stopped, and then started once more to respond.
“Oh, why … of course, that would be marvelous. Indeed, we shall come.”
Lord Brickton said nothing but continued to stew in his chair.
“Excellent,” Nolan said, at long last meeting Gabby’s eyes. “I know it’s early, but would you care for a stroll around the churchyard, Miss Waverly?”
His smooth manners unsettled her—she much preferred the improper Nolan Quinn who called her lass and winked devilishly at her. Gabby folded her napkin and set it on the table, avoiding her father’s eyes, which were no doubt simmering with displeasure. She stood up, half wishing her father would bluster and refuse to allow her to leave. Once she was alone with Nolan, she’d have to explain how she’d destroyed the carcass demon. But then, staying with her parents at the breakfast table wasn’t a much better prospect.
Gabby and Nolan left without hearing a word of objection. They stopped in the foyer to gather her cloak and gloves, but all of her hats were up in her room. She felt exposed as they walked outside onto the thin layer of crusty snow covering the drive. Nolan kept an arm’s length between them. He was silent, and when Gabby ventured a peek, she saw that his eyes were fastened on the abbey, his lips drawn into a taut line.
He was angry.
They were nearly to the transept doors when Nolan finally said, “It was Chelle, wasn’t it?”
It wasn’t worth the effort it would take to feign ignorance. Gabby nodded. “You don’t know what it was like, sitting around the rectory waiting, doing nothing. I’d catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror, see my face, and remember that hound … how powerless I was.” Gabby stopped at the doors while Nolan reached for the handles. “Don’t be angry with Chelle. I practically begged her to start training me.”
“I’m not upset with her.” Nolan gestured for Gabby to enter.
They weren’t alone in the eastern transept. A pair of workers were crouched along the aisle, scrubbing the white marble frescoes that had gone brown and yellow with age and neglect. They spared Nolan and Gabby a single glance before setting back to the delicate work of cleansing the carved robes of the portrayed saints.
“But you’re angry with me,” she whispered as they walked toward the pulpit.
Nolan didn’t reply. He took her by the arm and led her toward the ambulatory. Pink marble columns lined this rounded end of the abbey, creating a walkway past numerous small alcove chapels dedicated to individual saints. Nolan continued to lead Gabby deeper into the sanctuary, behind the freshly varnished choir stalls. The columns rushed past them, and Gabby’s slippers hit the tiles with echoing slaps. Finally, he jerked her to a stop underneath the great rose window, took her by the shoulders, and dragged her behind a column.